


until the morning comes

by thewayofthemandalorian



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayofthemandalorian/pseuds/thewayofthemandalorian
Summary: When your friend Marcus’s pipes burst in the coldest weather that Washington has seen in years, you offer to have him stay at your place until a plumber is able to get to his place. After the power suddenly goes out from a sudden winter storm, the two of you must huddle together for warmth.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	until the morning comes

**Author's Note:**

> Marcus is back! This is 100% less angsty than my last Marcus fic. This is soft, cozy, happy Marcus at his finest. I hope you enjoy it! 🥰
> 
> Warnings: Fluff, a bit of mutual pining, kissing, swearing, implied/referenced (non-explicit) sex
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @thewayofthemandalorian

Often you would wake up to be greeted by a text by your best friend, Marcus Pike.

Usually it would be a funny joke or an observation. A good morning text. Sometimes it would be an offer to do something after the two of you got off work. But this morning’s text was an odd one.

_You ever have those mornings where you’re like “well this might as well happen”?_

You frowned as your eyes skimmed over the text again before shooting back your own. _Yeah. All the time. Comes with the territory of being an art curator_. _What’s up?_

Marcus’s reply was instant. _Pipes burst. In my bedroom._

The temperature in Washington had been near-record-breaking the past couple of days. It was the type of cold that permeated in your bones and stayed there. It gave Antarctica a run for its money. You were hardly surprised that Marcus’s pipes burst - there had been stories on the news all week about the record chill that was hitting the capitol, how people were waking up to burst pipes.

_Oh, no. :( Marcus, that’s terrible!_

Marcus had had to deal with a lot in the past little while. The stress of his job, which he loved, as he kept reminding you every time he opened his mouth to rightfully complain about someone slacking off or the pressures of running an entire department.

Not only was he having to deal with the pressure of running the art department, but his ex-fiancée, Teresa had shown up last week with her husband Patrick on assignment. You had never seen Marcus so stressed. Even though he said that he harboured no residual feelings for Teresa and Jane, you knew his tell of being upset or stressed - he got _calm_. Like eerily calm. Gratefully, she and Jane stayed out of the art department for the most part while they were there, but you noticed Marcus a lot more often at the gallery you worked at that week.

 _Plumber can’t make it to my place until Tuesday._ You groaned in sympathy for your best friend. Poor man needed a break. It was Friday.

 _What are you going to do?_ you asked him.

Marcus was a long time responding - he had a lot to say. _I managed to turn the water off so that the house doesn’t flood. Going to see what hotels are available_.

You didn’t bother replying with a text. Instead you pulled up his number and pressed “call.”

After the second ring, Marcus picked up.

Before he could even so much as say hello, you spoke. “You will, under no circumstances, stay at a hotel in a city you already live in. I won’t allow it.”

Marcus chuckled. “Good morning to you, too. What do you suggest I do instead?”

The answer was simple. “Stay at mine. It’s cozier. I’ve got a spare room, and I’ll only charge you with breakfast making duties.”

Try as you might to tell yourself that your reasoning for inviting Marcus over was altruistic, that it had nothing to do with your feelings for him, you couldn’t ignore the excited spark of joy that flooded your veins when Marcus conceded. The two of you made plans that he would come over from work this evening.

 _Just altruistic_ , you told yourself as you hung up, a giddy smile on your face, _nothing to do with the fact that you love him_.

* * *

The snow had been falling for hours. You didn’t realize that it could snow when it was this cold. Your car had protested this morning when you attempted to turn it on.

Work was _slow_. People who didn’t have to go out stayed at home. You had nothing pressing to do. Everything that needed to be done for the week had been finished yesterday or the day before.

The ennui you were feeling had nothing to do with counting down the hours until Marcus would be at your place. Nope. Not at all.

You were effectively the boss. And bosses could leave early, _right_? You usually stayed until four, maybe four-thirty. But there was only so many times that you could pretend to organize your pristine filing cabinet.

As you bundled yourself up in your coat, just after two-thirty, you told your second-in-command that you were taking a half-day today and would be back on Monday.

The air, like it had been this morning, was a cold slap in your face as you made your way to the parking garage. What you wouldn’t give for a warm summer day right about now. It was easy to see why Marcus’s pipes had burst.

Stopping at the grocery store on your way home, you picked up everything you thought you might need for the weekend. The snow was coming down harder than it had been when you left work half an hour ago. Last you heard, they were calling for a snowstorm that would last until sometime tomorrow. All the better that Marcus would be staying at your place and not a hotel.

Traffic was at a snail’s pace. You were convinced that everyone forgot how to drive when it snowed. Gratefully, there were no accidents on your way to the store.

As a result of the impending snowstorm, the store was _packed_. You tried to get in and out as quickly as possible, just wanting to get home and prepared for Marcus’s arrival.

Your phone dinged with a text notification as you put the groceries and the bottle of wine you had impulsively picked up in the back seat.

 _Work is quieter than a graveyard. Sending everyone home early ahead of the snowstorm. Should be at yours in about forty-five minutes_.

It was just past four now. That should give you enough time to set the guest bedroom up and make the bed.

Putting away the groceries at lightning speed, you let your mind wander, not for the first time today. It wandered to a common topic. Marcus.

You had first met Marcus shortly after he had arrived in Washington three years ago. The two of you had hit it off almost instantly. Back then, you were an art guide, in charge of giving lectures and guided tours of the gallery you worked at. Marcus had come in on a quiet day when there were no other people signed up for a tour.

He had seemed dejected, almost sad in that first meeting, try as he might to hide it from you. All the same, he had an endearing quality to him. The way he lit up as you spoke about the various pieces.

The next time you met a few weeks later, outside the gallery restaurant on your lunch break, you found out the reason why he had looked so despondent “I’m the supervisor in the art department at the FBI. Just transferred six weeks ago. I was supposed to come here with my fia - _ex_ -fiancée,” he corrected himself. Marcus didn’t look quite as despondent as he had on your first meeting, but when he had to correct himself… Man, your own heart broke for him and you hardly knew the guy.

Not knowing what to say, you offered a small smile. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Marcus. Um, if you need a friend, I’m here,” you finally said. It was probably lame, you thought.

Although, maybe not, with the way he smiled back at you. The first _true_ smile you had seen from him. “I-I’d like that,” he said quietly.

And true to your words, you became friends. Fast friends, easy friends. You and he spent time outside of work, catching a movie or going to a museum, your bond starting over your shared love of art, but ended up going so much deeper than that. He told you about his ex-wife Jenna, who had had an affair with her boss, putting the blame on Marcus, claiming that he was always “too busy for her.” And about Teresa, who had never been truly interested in a relationship with him from what it sounded like.

And somewhere along the way, you had caught feelings for him, completely unaware that he had feelings for you as well.

That was what you were thinking about when the doorbell rang. A second later you heard the door open. “Hello?” Marcus’s voice rang through the house. “Anyone home?”

You emerge from the guest bedroom, bed made and turned down for Marcus’s ease of access. His eyes lit up when he saw you. “How’s it going?”

Marcus finished unlacing his winter boots. “ _Cold_. The snow is crunchy. Why do we live in a place where the snow is _crunchy_?” He opened the hall closet to hang up his coat. He was still wearing his work clothes, his tie slightly undone, hanging more loosely around his collar than it would be otherwise. You tried not to stare.

“Tell me about it. I heard we’re supposed to get hit hard with snow all this weekend.”

Marcus groaned. “Thank you again for having me over. I really appreciate it.” He picked up his duffle bag that he always had in the trunk of his car for any sudden FBI trips.

“Absolutely. What are best friends for?” you said, leading him towards the guest room to drop off his suitcase. “You know where the bathroom is if you wanna take a shower or anything. There’s a towel at the end of the bed for you.”

Marcus nodded. “I might just do that, if you don’t mind.”

* * *

You tried very hard to focus on making dinner as Marcus took a shower. You knew that Marcus had a hearty appetite.

“Do you need a hand?” Marcus’s sudden question made you jump. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckled. You looked up at him. He had traded his work clothes for something more casual. A long-sleeved t-shirt and some jeans. His hair was damp, his scruffy beard trimmed.

You smiled at him. “I’m just about done and then it can go in the oven, but thank you.”

It was an easy meal, one that you had made for Marcus before, but it was one of his favourite dishes of yours.

He slid into one of the barstools at the island. “I can’t wait. I love this meal.” Marcus stole a scrap of food from the dish with a twinkle in his eye. You swatted his hand away playfully, moving to put it in the oven.

Outside the wind howled and buffeted against the house. You shivered instinctively as the lights flickered ever so slightly.

Marcus and you shared a glance of trepidation as the lights flickered again. You could look into his dark brown eyes forever without getting bored of it.

“How was work?” you asked after a stretch of companionable silence, breaking eye contact for a second so you wouldn’t be staring.

Shrugging, Marcus paused to find the word. “Boring. There’s no new case and the team is caught up on paperwork from the Sanderson case.”

You nodded in commiseration. “So does that mean that crime sometimes _does_ sleep?” You giggled at Marcus’s affectionate eye roll. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“You, miss, are terrible and I can’t believe we are friends.” Marcus’s eyes betrayed him.

The words just slipped out unthinkingly. “I know, but you love me.”

Marcus just nodded, subtly not allowing you to feel embarrassment. What you didn’t know was that he wanted to agree. Affirm your words. He’d wanted to tell you for some time now about his feelings, but he didn’t want to jump in too quickly like he had with Teresa. But the way you had looked at him recently when you thought he wasn’t paying attention made him wonder…

The timer beeped. “Get a drink, sit down, I’ll get everything ready,” you said, gesturing to the fridge for him to get a drink. You’d save the bottle of wine for another night.

“This is really nice,” Marcus said as you ate. You hummed in agreement. “Thanks again so much for doing this.”

You set down your fork for a moment, taking a sip of your water. “Of course. I wasn’t just going to let the man I lo - I call my best friend rent a hotel room.” You hoped he didn’t catch your slip, quickly taking another bite of your food.

Outside, another gale of wind howled menacingly.

“Glad I’m in here and not out there,” muttered Marcus.

“Mmm- _hmmm_ ,” you agreed around a bite of food.

Marcus hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I … When _she_ was here last week, Teresa that is, I overheard her complaining to Jane about the cold weather. She said that she could never live in a place so cold.” He looked downcast, but in a different way than he had been when you had first met him three years ago.

You reached out and squeezed his hand softly, knowing that you needed to be his friend first and foremost right now. “Well, for what it’s worth, there are a lot of things and people that Washington has that more than makes up for the cold weather.”

Marcus smiled at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place your finger on. You knew he had no lingering feelings for his ex, but it was never going to be completely smooth sailing with her. Not when it had ended as messily as it had. “Thank you,” he whispered roughly, giving your hand a squeeze in return. You just nodded wordlessly, offering a soft smile in return.

You switched topics. Discussed what you would do this weekend. “Shovelling. Consider it your payment for staying here.” Marcus knew you weren’t serious. You’d mentioned Joey, the teenager down the street who shovelled driveways in the winter and mowed lawns in the summer to save up money for photography courses and new equipment, a few times.

“Do you think you’ll call a snow day on Monday?” you asked Marcus as you passed him a wet dish for him to dry.

Marcus toweled the plate as he spoke. “It’ll have to be a game-day decision. You?”

You scrubbed the last stubborn bit of food from the casserole dish, rinsing it off. “Same. I’m tempted to just call it now. Everyone’s going to be shovelling their ways out for _days._ I heard someone at the store say today that they’re calling for three feet of snow.”

Letting out a surprised chuckle, Marcus quirked an eyebrow at you. “That seems excessive.”

Wiping the dish cloth over the last plate in the sink, you passed it to Marcus, your hand grazing his.

Neither of you moved for a second, both of you keeping your hands where they were.

Just as Marcus was going to take your hand in his, the power went out.

"Well, _shit,_ ” you said.

Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was pitch dark. You could barely see two inches in front of your face. “Maybe it will come back on in a few minutes?” you said hopefully.

It didn’t come back on in a few minutes.

* * *

“I feel like we’re in the olden times or something.” You had scrounged up some candles and had lit them.

It was just past ten and the power still hadn’t returned. The snow was coming down in heaps outside, the wind moaning and whistling. It was well and truly a blizzard now.

You were becoming more and more aware of the plunging temperature. Without the furnace, the cold seeped into your old house quickly. You cursed yourself for not having more blankets.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

Marcus turned his head to look at you. “What for?” He was genuinely confused. “It’s not your fault the power went out.”

“I know, but still.” Your voice is small. “My house isn’t well-insulated so it’s gonna be cold tonight.”

Another gust of wind outside groaned as you realized what you would probably have to do so you didn’t freeze to death.

Even in the dark, Marcus could read you. “What is it?” he asked you.

“Well, we’re going to be cold in our own beds… So, we might have to share a bed.” It felt silly avoiding his eyes when you currently couldn’t _see_ his eyes that well.

Marcus was unbothered. “That’s fine. I’ve shared a bed before.” Before you can protest, he continued. “I’d sleep a lot better knowing that we’re both warm. Or, rather, warmer than we would be otherwise.”

His tone brooked no denial. You sighed. “Okay, let me get changed into something more comfortable and I’ll meet you in the guest room.” Just as Marcus was about to ask why the guest bedroom and not your bedroom, you explained, “I’m not gonna make you move all your stuff in the dark.”

You took your phone and turned on the flashlight, leaving him with the candle. The flickering candlelight danced on Marcus’s face, washing his tan skin in an ethereal glow.

You found your warmest set of pajamas you had, pulling them on as quickly as possible. The cold had already started to permeate through the old walls. As much as you liked the historical value of your house, it either needed a massive upgrade in insulation, or you needed another place.

Marcus was flipping light switches to the off position when you came out of your room, also in pajama pants and a long sleeved waffle knit shirt. He looked cozy. “I don’t want us to be blinded when the power comes back,” he explained, seeing your look of confusion in the candlelight.

Leading him to the guest room, you switched back on your phone’s flashlight as Marcus blew the candle out, leaving it on the night table on his side of the bed. He got into the bed first. You pretended to busy yourself with a pillow for a minute before getting into bed as well.

“If you snore in my ear, you’re sleeping on the floor,” you teased as you pulled the blanket up, no truth to your words.

You had always suspected Marcus would be a human furnace. The guest bed was a double, so it was slightly close quarters, but you didn’t mind. You moved to your side so you faced him, your hand landing on the bed just above his.

“So much for fancy, upgraded heating when the insulation is shit,” you said. Marcus laughed.

The two of you lay in the darkness, silence surrounding you save for the occasional gust or groan of wind. Very faintly, you could see Marcus’s face. It was relaxed, peaceful. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not.

As you looked at him, you were filled with the feeling that you often had when looking at him. One of peace. Of joy and light. He was _here_ and so were you. You had never felt such warmth when you were apart from him. And while the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal, that didn’t stop you from saying the words that you were still too afraid to say directly to him when he was awake. He didn’t need to say them back. You just needed to say the words that had been weighing heavy on your heart for _so long_ , no louder than a whisper.

“I love you.”

When his hand came up to entwine in yours, your heart nearly stopped in your chest. Marcus lifted your tangled hands to his lips, pressed a kiss to your knuckle. “Sweet girl. I love you, too.”

* * *

When you woke the next morning, an arm was slung around your hip, holding you close. It was cozy. You felt secure, safe. _Warm._

You turned slightly to see Marcus gazing at you, his eyes soft, a small smile on his lips.

“Morning,” he said, pressing a tentative kiss to your forehead. You shut your eyes at the sensation, still not fully believing that this was real. Your eyes met, a shy smile on your own lips, not missing how his eyes darted between yours and your lips. You gave an almost imperceptible nod, inching your lips closer to his incrementally.

Marcus met you halfway, capturing your lips in his with a kiss that was _achingly_ tender. “Sweetheart,” he gasped out as you parted for air. You chased his kiss, wanting, _needing_ more.

“Marcus,” you sighed. “I love you.”

His voice was rough as he spoke. “Loved you for so long, sweet girl.” Something hard pressed against your hip just then.

 _Oh_.

Marcus swore. “Sorry.” You cut off the rest of his apology with a hungry, languid kiss, three years of longing and pining conveyed in it.

“Please. _Marcus._ ”

Breath hitched slightly, Marcus’s voice was gravelly with his own want. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t want to rush anything. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You kissed down his jaw, nipping at his ear, cupping his other cheek with your hand. “I’m sure. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long, Marcus. I want this, want you.” You ground your hips against his to accentuate your point, relishing the stuttered moan that slipped from his lips.

Marcus’s eyes darkened as his hands moved to the hem of your sleep shirt. “Dear girl. I’m going to take care of you,” he promised, his voice a mix of desire and love for you.

It wasn’t until much, much later, as you were lying against Marcus’s bare chest, basking in the afterglow, his arm slung around your shoulder, that you realized the power had come back on sometime in the night. 

Smiling up at Marcus, you said, “Did that really happen? Is this real?” Your voice was no more than a whisper, still not trusting yourself. You had never known such happiness - it was hard to believe that all this had happened.

“It’s real, sweetheart. That really happened.” Marcus kissed your forehead, his breath ruffling your hair.

You smiled, still in slight disbelief that all of this had really happened. All the same, you said it again. “I love you, Marcus.”

He tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his deep brown ones. “I love you, too. I have for a long time.”

Needing to know, you blurted out your question before you could stop yourself. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You could ask yourself the same thing, but you knew the answer, it was the same answer that he gave you.

“I didn’t want to wreck what we had. But I’ve loved you since you first offered to be my friend when I first moved here. I didn’t realize it until much later, but I’ve wanted nothing but for you to happy.”

Unexpected tears pricked at the back of your eyes as you nodded silently. “I-I was the same,” you said.

“It’s okay, we got here in the end,” said Marcus, kissing you sweetly.

* * *

The worst of the blizzard was over, though it continued to snow off and on for the rest of the weekend. The wind had died down significantly, no more than a gentle breeze.

You and Marcus spent the weekend wrapped up in each other, learning secrets about one another, making plans, exploring each others’ bodies again and again. Though you had had great weekends with Marcus before, this was a weekend for the books.

On Sunday night, you smiled lazily as Marcus joined you in bed, both of you ready to be tucked in. Work was unsure in the morning, and he had to deal with the plumber on Tuesday, but you knew that you would be spending a lot more time with this man that you loved, and you were very okay with that. It was very early days yet, but you knew with conviction that you would never get tired of saying “I love you” to Marcus and hearing him say it in return.

Your phone alerting you of an email woke you early the next morning. Marcus was gone. The bed was still warm from where he had been, so he must have just gotten up. Faintly you could hear his voice in the kitchen. He was speaking to someone from the FBI.

“-see you Wednesday, Frank. Yeah, stay safe today.”

Glancing down at the notification you saw that it was the director of the museum. It was a snow day. Apparently it would take the plows all day to get the roads cleared.

The door creaked open as Marcus returned. You smiled sleepily up at him. “Snow day for you, too?” Marcus nodded. “Good. Come back to bed, honey.”

As you settled back into sleep, Marcus’s lips at your shoulder, his arm slung over your hip, holding you close to him, you realized that winters in Washington were not as bad as you once thought.


End file.
